


The Day of Forty-Four Sunsets

by Talvenhenki



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, beginning of a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24116440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talvenhenki/pseuds/Talvenhenki
Summary: After Isabelle dies in a car crash, Porthos hurries to pick up the pieces of Aramis' family.Modern AU
Relationships: Aramis | René d'Herblay/Porthos du Vallon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	The Day of Forty-Four Sunsets

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even remember what inspired me to write this originally. I just remember it had something to do with the Little Prince.
> 
> The title is inspired by The Little Prince scene where the Little Prince explains that when you are very sad, you enjoy sunsets very much.

Porthos looked inside the hospital room after the two policemen had left. Aramis’ gaze was empty, and he was gripping the edges of the bed he was sitting on. His left wrist was bandaged and there was a quilt draped over Aramis’ shoulders. Porthos wanted to go inside and comfort Aramis, but he feared that he couldn’t piece Aramis back together. He had hurried to the hospital as soon as he’d heard about the car crash and, to his horror, he’d found out that Isabelle had died in it. He hadn’t been allowed inside the room as the police had been questioning Aramis – did they really think Aramis had caused the crash? – and so he’d waited.

Porthos braced himself and walked over to Aramis. Aramis looked up and Porthos could see the shudder that went through him. His eyes were so empty that Porthos had to wonder how they’d once held so much light.

“Isabelle”, Aramis whispered and reached his hand out to Porthos.

“I know”, Porthos said, taking Aramis’ hand, “I know, Aramis. I’m so sorry.”

Porthos helped Aramis up from the bed and began leading him away from the room. Aramis could barely respond to anything Porthos said and needed to be led by Porthos so that he’d find his way. Porthos felt pity for his friend; seeing him in shock like that hurt. At least he’d been cleared to go home to his family – or what was left of it.

“I came here to drive you home”, Porthos explained as they walked towards the garage. “We’ll pick your kids up on the way; they’re with your parents. Constance promised she’d be at your house with d’Artagnan and Athos. We’ll stay with you and the girls tonight. You won’t be alone, you hear me? We’ll take care of you three.”

Aramis nodded shakily and remained quiet. Porthos offhandedly wondered if he was ever again going to see the smile that he’d fallen in love with so many years before. At that moment, he’d have given anything to hear Aramis laughing again.

“Do you think mom and dad have told the girls already?” Aramis asked. They were in the elevator as Aramis shot Porthos an almost panicked look. “How will I tell them that Isabelle isn’t coming home?”

“We can call them and ask”, Porthos said, trying to sound comforting, “I can tell them if you feel like you can’t do it. I’ll be there for you, alright?”

Aramis nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. He leaned himself against Porthos, pressing his left arm against Porthos’ right. He was pressing against Porthos so hard that it seemed like he was trying to ground himself – he’d already done that during their university years when he was especially distraught.

“How are we going to get to my parents’?” Aramis asked suddenly when they reached the garage. “I don’t have a car anymore.”

“I’ll drive you”, Porthos explained and quickly brushed his fingers against Aramis’ cheek. “I have my car with me.”

“Good”, Aramis whispered, “good. I don’t think I can drive anytime soon.”

Porthos grabbed Aramis’ hand and squeezed his fingers. Aramis closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. Sadness squeezed at Porthos’ heart; he just wanted to scoop Aramis into a hug and not let go until Aramis felt better.

The drive to Aramis’ parents’ house was quiet. Aramis was leaning on the window and gazing into the night. He was absentmindedly fiddling with his wedding ring and humming something. A few times he grabbed his phone and opened the screen, about to do something, but every time he put it back to his pocket.

“Do you think they’ve told the girls?” Aramis whispered as they pulled over on the driveway to the d’Herblay house. He was incredibly pale, and his hands were shaking.

“If they haven’t, I can do that”, Porthos said and grabbed Aramis’ hand. “I won’t make you go through it alone.”

“Thank you”, Aramis whispered and got out of the car.

Porthos got out as well and followed Aramis to the porch. Aramis’ mother, Diana d’Herblay, was sitting there, waiting for them to arrive. As soon as she noticed Aramis, she rushed to him and embraced him tightly.

“We told the girls, but I don’t think they understood it completely”, Diana whispered. Porthos could hear from her voice that she’d been crying. “Charlotte keeps asking for Isabelle. Do you think you can take it?”

“I’ve got to”, Aramis said, “since they’re my children. They only have me now.”

Diana nodded and opened the door. The girls were giggling inside as they played pretend while Oscar, Aramis’ father, looked after them. Aramis’ breathing quickened and he turned around to look at Porthos.

“Stay behind me?” Aramis asked softly. His face was almost ashen, and he trembled lightly. “I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“I’ll be right here”, Porthos whispered.

The girls had heard Aramis’ voice when the door had been opened and they ran to him, jumping into his arms. Aramis lifted the girls up on his hips like he’d done many times before and the girls hugged him. Charlotte was full of energy, kicking her legs around.

“Where’s mom?” she asked, smiling widely, “did she go home already? Will she read our bedtime story tonight?”

“No”, Aramis said, “no, mom isn’t home. There was an accident and your mother…she died. She can’t come home anymore.”

The girls fell silent. Cécile snuggled closer to Aramis and sniffled while Charlotte looked confused and almost angry. Her lower lip was trembling like it always did when she was about to throw a tantrum. For a moment, Porthos was sure Aramis would shatter if he had to deal with Charlotte’s temper tantrum. He swooped Charlotte up just in time as she started wailing, leaving Aramis to comfort Cécile who was still sniffling.

“Hey, Charlotte, it’s alright”, Porthos muttered as he bounced her around. Charlotte’s tiny hands curled into fists, gripping on Porthos’ shirt as she kicked around. She was wailing but her voice lacked the force of a temper tantrum; it was more like a desperate plea to see her mother once more.

Meanwhile, Aramis looked like he would shatter at any moment. He was shaking and his father was talking softly to him, trying to anchor him in the moment. He was rubbing Aramis’ back, almost like he was making sure Aramis wouldn’t fall. Porthos’ heart broke, seeing how vulnerable Aramis was at that moment.

“I can come over tonight”, Oscar said, “and help where I can.”

Aramis simply nodded and then turned to look at Porthos. It was like his eyes were screaming for Porthos to take him away, to take him home and help him forget all the terrible things that had happened.

“You know what, girls?” Porthos said. Both Charlotte and Cécile looked up at him, eyes big. “I’ll read you a bedtime story tonight. I have one of my favourite books with me; it’s a story about a very special person.”

“What’s the story?” Cécile asked. Gone was the sadness from her face and the soft sniffles; she looked excited to hear Porthos’ story.

“It’s called _The Little Prince_. Do you know it?”

Cécile shook her head. “Mom reads us princess stories. Is the little prince nice?”

“Oh, he’s very nice”, Porthos told. He motioned Aramis to follow him back to the car, to which Aramis nodded. “He lives on a little asteroid and he likes sunsets and learning new things; he’s very curious. I bet you’ll love the story.”

While Porthos was talking about the prince, Aramis and Oscar moved the two children’s safety seats from Oscar’s car to the backseat of Porthos’ car. They sat the girls on the seats and Aramis and Porthos got onto the front seats so they could drive back to Aramis’ place. Aramis still looked very pale but Porthos had faith in his ability to keep himself in one piece until they reached his house.

Athos, d’Artagnan, and Constance were already waiting for them at the house when they pulled up. Constance had a bouquet of flowers – Porthos had forgotten it was customary to give flowers to the family of the deceased – while the other two were also bare-handed. They all looked worried and when Aramis got out of the car, d’Artagnan and Constance rushed to hug him.

“I’m so sorry, Aramis”, Constance whispered, barely holding her own tears, “I’m so sorry. This should never have happened.”

Aramis nodded and pulled away from the embrace. He helped the girls out of the car and carried them inside almost mechanically, not saying a word. He kicked off his shoes and helped the girls take off their coats and hats. He then slid down on the floor, not having energy for anything else.

“So, girls”, Constance said, getting their attention before they could see how bad Aramis was feeling, “do you want something to eat? I could make you some delicious sandwiches if you’d like.”

As Constance was fussing with the girls’ evening snack, Athos and Porthos helped Aramis up and walked him onto the sofa. Porthos sat down next to him and hugged him again for a good measure.

“Thank you”, Aramis whispered as he leaned his head on Porthos’ shoulder. Porthos nodded and held Aramis close, not knowing what else he could do at that moment. Aramis was still trembling – still in shock, Porthos realised – and Porthos wrapped a quilt around his shoulders.

“I’ll go help Constance with the girls”, Porthos said, “you keep yourself together. Athos and d’Artagnan will help.”

Porthos went to the kitchen where Constance was chatting with the twins. Charlotte seemed a lot happier already while Cécile looked a bit melancholy – maybe Cécile had understood Isabelle’s fate better than Charlotte had?

“So, girls, you should go to sleep soon”, Constance said when the twins were done with their sandwiches. “Do you need me to help you with brushing your teeth?”

“Papá and mom normally brush our teeth together but tonight you can do that”, Charlotte declared, “but Porthos promised to read us our bedtime story so he must do that! Right, Cécile?”

“Yeah”, Cécile mumbled. She seemed to lack the energy Charlotte had. Porthos knew she was quieter by nature, but her melancholy worried him. A child that young shouldn’t look so incredibly sad.

The girls’ evening routine was done soon enough and Porthos walked them to Aramis who was still sitting in the living room with Athos, d’Artagnan, and Oscar. The girls hugged Aramis and kissed him good night before hurrying to their room to listen to Porthos’ bedtime story.

Porthos read the girls the two first chapters of _The Little Prince_. The story was rather long, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to finish it that evening. If he was lucky, Aramis would let him come over for long enough to finish the story.

“Why did you quit there?” Charlotte demanded as Porthos put down the book. “I want to know more about the Prince and why he needs a sheep. And what happens to the man. You can’t stop there!”

Porthos hushed her gently. Cécile had fallen asleep at his side and he carefully moved her to her bed. When he tried to move away, she grabbed his hand and wouldn’t let go. Porthos carefully replaced his hand with a teddy bear that Cécile immediately hugged.

“The story would be too long to finish on one night”, Porthos explained quietly, “but I promise to ask your father if I can come over to read the story to you until it’s finished. How’s that sound?”

“That’s a deal!” Charlotte said and grinned at Porthos. He ruffled her hair and told her good night before leaving the room.

Porthos returned downstairs to the others. Aramis was leaning his head on Athos’ shoulder, his gaze exhausted and heartbroken. He looked simply deflated. Constance was sitting nearby on another sofa with d’Artagnan at her side, and Oscar had taken the armchair. Porthos sat down next to Aramis and held his hand.

“The girls are sleeping”, Porthos said softly. “Or, well, Cécile fell asleep while I read to her. Charlotte would have listened to more of the story gladly. How are you holding up?”

Aramis sighed and moved to rest his head against Porthos’ shoulder. He wrapped his free arm around Porthos’ torso, sighing again. Porthos placed his free hand on Aramis’ shoulder and rubbed his thumb against it in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“I can’t help but wishing this is a nightmare I’ll wake up from any minute now”, Aramis whispered. His voice was strained, as if he was trying to keep himself from crying. “Or alternatively I’m waiting for Isabelle to walk through the door and say how sorry she is for scaring me. I…I can’t believe she’s gone for good.”

Porthos felt wetness at his shoulder. Aramis was trembling and occasionally sniffling quietly. Porthos leaned his cheek on top of Aramis’ head and moved his hand to rub Aramis’ back.

“Hey”, Porthos said quietly, “it’s alright. I’m here.”

Athos’ hand was rubbing Aramis’ knee, and Porthos rocked Aramis back and forth. Oscar retreated into the kitchen to make some hot chocolate for everyone and soon d’Artagnan decided to go help him. Constance grabbed a chair to get closer to Aramis and begun talking softly to him. Aramis was still sobbing quietly as Oscar and d’Artagnan returned with the hot chocolate and placed the tray onto the living room table.

“Do you think you can go to work tomorrow?” Porthos asked after Aramis had managed to compose himself again. “I called Alice when I heard about Isabelle and she told me to say that it’s alright if you need to take a few days off. I can call her for you.”

Aramis was a kindergarten teacher in a kindergarten run by Alice Clerbeaux, a long-time friend of Porthos’. She had known Isabelle as well and the news of Isabelle’s death had shocked her. However, instead of giving into her shock, she’d asked if Aramis was alright and made Porthos promise to look after him.

“I can’t go there like this”, Aramis breathed. He held a cup of steaming hot chocolate between his hands as he spoke. “Could you call her? And please tell her that it means a lot to me that she said that.”

“I’ll make the call right away”, Porthos said, standing up and making his way to the kitchen to be able to speak to Alice in private. When he returned to the living room after the call, he saw Oscar had taken his place hugging Aramis.

“Do you need any of us to stay with you for the night?” Porthos asked. He had packed some spare clothes just in case. “I can sleep on the sofa in case you need anyone to help around. I actually promised the girls I’d be back tomorrow to continue the story I was reading them. Is it okay?”

Aramis gave him a melancholy smile and nodded. “I’d like that. But there’s a perfectly good bed in the guest room. And my bed has more than enough space. I don’t…I don’t want to sleep alone. Not tonight.”

Porthos understood. Waking up to an empty bed would probably make Aramis just feel worse. If sleeping next to Aramis would make him feel better, Porthos would gladly do it. Isabelle surely wouldn’t mind.

* * *

The following day was slow. Porthos left to work early, but before that, he made Aramis some breakfast to bed. That was the least he could do, really. Aramis was grateful and actually smiled at Porthos as he ate.

“Thank you”, he whispered, swallowing some of his toast. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. Thank you.”

“It was no problem”, Porthos said as he pulled on his shirt. “Will you be alright today? And is it still okay for me to come over to continue the bedtime story for the kids?”

Aramis nodded, seeing as he couldn’t answer while his mouth was full of toast. Porthos chuckled and patted his shoulder before leaving. He left a little note on the kitchen table, telling Aramis to call if he needed anything, for a good measure.

During the day, Aramis’ parents came over to help arrange Isabelle’s funeral and to call Isabelle’s parents. Oscar spent time with Charlotte and Cécile while Diana helped Aramis around. It was difficult, arranging the funeral of a loved one, so Aramis was grateful for the help he was getting. Isabelle’s parents came over during the afternoon to help with the arrangements and to see how Aramis and the twins were doing.

In the evening, Porthos came over as promised. Aramis had cooked up a nice dinner and they ate together with the girls. Porthos was occupying Isabelle’s seat at the table, which felt weird at first but after a few minutes, Porthos was already used to it. He hoped that having a fourth person at the table would help Aramis and the girls over Isabelle’s death.

After the dinner, when Aramis and the kids were spending time in the living room with Porthos, Cécile started crying suddenly. Aramis picked up and started carrying her around at his hip. He bounced her around, trying to comfort her.

“Hey, sweetie, it’s alright”, Aramis whispered as he bounced Cécile around. “What’s the matter?”

“I want mom!” Cécile wailed. “I want mom to come back!”

Aramis’ looked heartbroken as he heard Cécile’s words. He sat down on the sofa and hugged Cécile, rocking her. Charlotte decided she wanted a hug as well and climbed onto Porthos’ lap to make up for the lack of comfort.

“Cécile, sweetheart”, Aramis said softly, “I think mom would want to come back very much, but she cannot. She’s dead which means she isn’t coming back, no matter how much we want her to. We can still see her in photos and our little videos, but she cannot come back. I’m sorry, sweetie. I’d bring her back if I could.”

Cécile continued crying and Aramis rocked her. Charlotte, impatient as always, jumped down from Porthos’ lap and climbed onto the sofa next to Aramis to comfort Cécile. She stroked Cécile’s arm and said something in Spanish, too fast for Porthos to understand.

“We’ll bury mom tomorrow”, Aramis said when Cécile had calmed down enough to stop wailing. “I’ll be with you two the whole day but the day after tomorrow I’ll have to go back to work. Grandma and grandpa will come to look after you day after tomorrow. You won’t have to go back to the kindergarten until next week. Is that okay?”

The girls nodded and Aramis hugged them. Porthos felt like he was intruding, until Aramis gave him another one of those grateful smiles.

Maybe he was doing the right thing, after all.

After that, they fell into a rhythm. Porthos would come over every evening, and Aramis would cook something for the four of them to eat. Porthos would read the girls two chapters of _The Little Prince_ every evening and stay with Aramis for some time afterwards. Sometimes Porthos stayed for the night, sleeping on Isabelle’s side of the bed.

Sometimes Porthos wondered if he should tell Aramis about his feelings. About how he’d loved Aramis for years, ever since they first met at the university. Well, not from their first meeting, but from soon after that. He had loved Aramis’ smile and the way he sometimes laughed at his own jokes so much that he couldn’t finish them. But no, he couldn’t say something like that so soon after Isabelle’s death. That wouldn’t be fair.

Porthos kept quiet, only stealing glances at Aramis when he thought Aramis wasn’t looking. He wished that, one day, he would be able to kiss Aramis, to hold him, and maybe live together with him.

On the second Thursday after Isabelle’s death, Porthos and Aramis were sitting in the living room after the girls had gone to sleep. Aramis was leaning on Porthos and reading some e-mails on his phone.

“You know, I’m finishing the book tomorrow”, Porthos said. Aramis’ eyes widened and he looked up at Porthos.

“Oh”, Aramis breathed, “I hadn’t realised you were making such progress. I wonder what the girls will want to hear next. Perhaps I could read them _The Little Princess_ ; they like princess stories. Do you think they’d like it?”

“I hear it’s good for little children”, Porthos agreed. “The same author also wrote _The Secret Garden_. The girls could probably like that as well.”

Aramis nodded, feeling uncertain.

* * *

The following evening Aramis was agitated. The girls had told him how excited they were to finally hear the ending of Porthos’ story. Cécile had drawn some pictures of different planets and the fox. Charlotte had drawn princes and decided that Aramis was her own prince. Perhaps he needed to read the story as well; he had never had the chance of getting to know it.

As Porthos was upstairs reading to the girls, Aramis had some herbal tea to calm his nerves. It was totally normal, he told himself, to hate the idea of your best friend no longer coming over every evening to read a bedtime story to your daughters.

Aramis paced around the kitchen with the mug of tea on his hands. He was using the mug he’d given Isabelle on their first Christmas together; the same mug Isabelle had loved enough to call it her lucky mug. It helped Aramis to feel better after the car crash. The mug held so many good memories that it was slowly erasing the horrible memory of Isabelle’s mangled body inside the car.

As Aramis passed the dining table for the umpteenth time, the mug hit a chair and shattered. Warm tea splashed all over Aramis’ shirt, trousers, and socks. Aramis, however, only paid attention to the shattered mug. The mug had been a part of Isabelle, and now it was gone.

Tears sprung to Aramis’ eyes as he slid down onto the floor. Isabelle was gone and so was her favourite mug. Porthos was leaving as well, and Aramis wasn’t sure he’d be capable of taking care of Charlotte and Cécile all alone. His grasp on the control was slipping terribly. What kind of a father would be too weak to take care of his two daughters?

Aramis leaned on the cupboards and buried his face into his arms. That way he could hide from the universe for a moment, at least.

“Aramis? Is everything okay?”

Aramis looked up to see Porthos standing at the doorway to the kitchen. He looked worried as he knelt next to Aramis and collected him into a tight embrace. He rocked Aramis from side to side all while making soothing noises into his ear.

“What happened?” Porthos asked softly.

“I broke Isabelle’s mug”, Aramis whispered, “I broke her favourite mug and she’s gone and so is her mug and you’re leaving soon, and I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t think I can take care of Charlotte and Cécile alone. I can’t do this on my own, I just can’t! It hurts so much.”

Porthos squeezed Aramis’ shoulders and, just like that, the dam broke. Aramis begun to cry against Porthos’ shoulder. He clung to Porthos in his desperation, trying to find an anchor to hold on. Porthos kept rocking him from side to side to comfort him.

When Aramis calmed down, Porthos cupped his cheeks and brushed the last stray tears away. He kissed Aramis’ forehead and then rested his own forehead on Aramis’. For a moment they just sat there, breathing each other’s air and drawing comfort from the other.

“You know, Aramis”, Porthos said quietly, “I won’t leave if you don’t want me to. I will be here with you because you are my best friend and I love you very much. I’m not letting you suffer if I have any say in it. Just give me the word and I’ll stay here with you.”

“Please”, Aramis breathed, “please stay here. Just for tonight.”

“I will”, Porthos said, and lifted Aramis up effortlessly. He carried Aramis to the living room where he told Aramis to wait while he cleaned the broken mug from the kitchen floor.

When Porthos returned, he sat next to Aramis and brushed his cheek with his knuckles. Aramis leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. He exhaled shakily and opened his eyes again, looking at Porthos.

“I like you too”, Aramis whispered, “a lot. I’ve had feelings for you for, I don’t know, for a long time. I talked about it with Isabelle before her death and she told me she wouldn’t have minded me dating you while we were married.”

Porthos’ heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected – hadn’t even dared to hope – that Aramis would return his feelings. But there they were, two men who loved each other, sitting on the sofa. Porthos leaned forward to be a bit closer to Aramis.

“May I kiss you?” Porthos asked. Aramis nodded, his eyes wet.

That night, they would fall asleep on the sofa and sleep through the whole night. The following morning – a Saturday – Porthos would get up and cook a perfect du Vallon homemade breakfast for Aramis and the children.

They would be happy together, eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments will be appreciated, loved, and cherished!


End file.
